Drifting Through Dead Space
by oldtair ibn-la'old
Summary: A little something based off of the end of Dead Space 3, Isaac's thoughts after the final boss fight. It's really more practice for writing Isaac's character. This is my first time writing Dead Space, I hope I do it justice and that you enjoy!


**2514** **\- Tau Volantis Moon**

" _So this is it, huh? We use that Codex?"_

" _Yeah."_

 _"No more bullshit? We die here, now?"_

 _"But Earth gets a tomorrow."_

He'd known what to do, he'd known it'd end this way. After all, it wasn't a terribly difficult decision. His life, and Carvers, in exchange for the billions of humans spread out through the Milky Way. Simple.

Ellie would call him a hero―savior, even. _He did it, he really did it,_ she'd say. _He saved us_. That's the story she would tell, and that's how Isaac and Carver would be remembered. _Heroes._

He could practically hear her soft and breathy laugh, see her body tremble as her throat ached. The words couldn't form; it would be too painful. Ellie was strong―fiery, but there was _something..._ something about Isaac that made her so very, very weak.

Unshed tears would burn her eyes as she'd speak to no one in particular, speaking to the air about the events she witnessed. How she was the sole survivor. Whoever was listening would sit there quietly, then she'd laugh and laugh until she could no longer hold in the tears. She'd dealt with the Titan Station incident that way and he'd held her close every second she needed him.

Isaac was no hero, he had never been. He was simply doing what any other capable man in his position would. Isaac had _always_ known how this all would end. It was merely a matter of time. Now, it seemed his time had run out.

 _Fuck_ , his head hurt.

Isaac Clarke had been bound to the Markers since the first initial contact with the Ishimura after it had been lost―since Nicole had died and the hallucinogenic visions of her had haunted him. It had been six years ago, but he would never forget how her likeness had been tarnished, used as nothing more than a tool to torment his mind.

 _Isaac...make us whole again._

The Marker masqueraded itself, trying it's hardest to convince him how everyone is united in death. Through death all are equal, yet all puppets of the Marker. At least, that's now a false reality. The Marker is dead, just as Isaac Clarke will be. A fading spark in the emptiness of space, floating on borrowed time.

The lack of sound made his ears ring painfully, but he was used to the silence. He'd gotten used to it after the visions of Nicole had stopped. With a tight throat and eyes brimming with tears and blood, Isaac pulled out the last bit of comfort he had left in his world.

Ellie's torn photo stared back at him. It was a somber reminder of the world he was leaving behind. A world he was leaving for _her_ , as selfish as he was. He hadn't been able to save Nicole―oh _god_ had he tried, but he had at least saved Ellie. He could die knowing that she had a future, that she could continue on and build a life without him. He didn't want to think about the complications, he _couldn't_.

Who wanted to imagine their loved ones in so much pain?

He had saved the Earth, gave humanity another day to live on and fight, something the Marker stripped from them. He couldn't afford to be selfish―Isaac just had to _let go_. He―

He didn't want to remember how a few weeks ago he was using alcohol to drink his sorrows away, debating internally whether a plasma cutter to the head would be less painful than downing every pill from his medicine bottles and finishing off the last of his whiskey. He couldn't think about how Ellie would cry herself to sleep every single night after she made it back to Earth safely. This time, it wasn't just because she was sleeping alone. Ellie wasn't taking a break from their relationship―Isaac wouldn't be there because he _couldn't_ be.

Isaac would be dead.

And he had a hard time accepting that fully.

If he was going to die―if he was going to suffocate in the vacuums of space, a martyr for the people of Earth, then he was going to die on _his_ terms. He wanted Ellie to be the last thing he saw. He wanted to die looking at the one good thing he had managed to keep in his life, regardless of him just getting her back.

Her picture flew away, and he had let it go. His limbs felt heavy with exhaustion. When was the last time he had slept more than a few hours every couple of days? He could feel himself begin to fade in and out from consciousness, from a lack of air. A lack of will. He closed his eyes, feeling weightless.

For a brief moment he had thought of Nicole.

He had been the indirect reason Nicole died. It was _him_ who'd encouraged her to take the opening aboard the U.S.G. Ishimura. She hadn't been sure and he had encouraged her. Now here he was, six years later―floating away and waiting for death. Hopeful that all of the tales were true and there was an afterlife waiting. Then, only then, would he atone for his sins and she would be waiting. She'd be standing there, that beautiful smile framing her lips. She'd always looked so happy, and she'd say how she forgave him. How she loved him.

Then the Markers macabre version of Nicole flashed through his head. It was painful to remember her teeth stained red and black, light oozing through every facial orifice. _She_ had been the direct reason he practically had the mouth of a whiskey bottle glued to his own. _Make us whole,_ it'd tell him. _Isaac...make us whole_. He couldn't though. He could never give in so easily―he never wanted to die that way, to let _it_ win.

And he didn't.

No matter how much his regret weighed him down, no matter how many times he wanted to drown in his own sorrow, he never let it consume him.

He wasn't a special case though. All he did was fight back.

Everyone hears the call of the Marker. All humans are susceptible. Not a single living being is truly special in that regard. If it can reach, it will infiltrate. It's a parasite both figuratively and literally. The Marker thrived because it knew when and how to strike effectively. It festered and burrowed into the mind, feeding off of the memories of the dead but living vicariously through the monstrous Necromorphs it created. Yet, at it's core it was no sentient being. It was nothing more than an unearthly combination of death and decay, spitting fraudulent tales to anyone who will believe. The Marker won't unite loved ones, it won't make anyone whole. It doesn't build, _no_ ―it's the cracks in the wall, the faulty foundation leading to a collapse.

And when it does collapse, when the fragile human mind breaks it is irreplaceable. Then, like the parasite it is, the Marker takes until it has consumed all it can. They paint the walls with their blood, those poor broken souls, they lose the ability to fight―the ability to struggle and rebel. Stripped of the one thing that makes them indefinitely _human_.

That will never happen again. Isaac had tried his damnedest to make sure of that. If there are more Markers out there then hopefully he can be used as a lesson. A lesson that everyone can fight, that everyone can go against the Markers influence, everyone can―

 _"Isaac? Isaac? Are you there? Carver? Isaac? You're gone, aren't you? The Marker signal...it's gone too. Isaac, you did it. You really did it..."_

Isaac's eyes snapped open once he had heard Ellie's voice. It was as if a switch had been turned on in his head. He was still alive, barely, but still _there._ He couldn't die, he didn't _want_ to be remembered just yet. He could still fight, he _had to fight._ For Ellie. Nicole's death had left him broken, he couldn't do that to Ellie.

He wouldn't.

He didn't know how, but he was making it back to her. One way or another.

 _"Ellie...Ellie!"_


End file.
